How did I get hear? #15 - Simon Sweetman on Todd Rundgren's "Something/ Anything"

Simon Sweetman on Todd Rundgren's "Something/ Anything"

Todd Rundgren’s 1972 masterpiece, Something/Anything is his third album, though his first under just his name. Prior to that he was using the band name, Runt. But on his first double-album he really goes all out, full one-man-band, playing the studio as much as he’s playing the songs. But such perfect, brilliant pop tunes as you might ever hear.

He’s somehow The Beach Boys and Carole King and Frank Zappa all at once. He’s a sensitive balladeer, and a balls-out guitar rocker. You marvel at a song like I Saw The Light, a quite resplendent album-opener, and then straight after you hear It Wouldn’t Have Made Any Difference, which I bet a lot of people secretly think is a Carole King song eh. It could totally just slip in there on Tapestry, don’t ya think? 
 

I knew about Rundgren first and foremost as the producer of Meat Loaf’s Bat Out of Hell because that album was everywhere when I was growing up. And I knew that Rundgren was this prolific musician (and producer). He had a hand in several other important records by other artists (XTC, Hall & Oates, Psychedelic Furs, even Kiwi legends, Dragon) and he wasn’t always easy to work with, which is probably why he found himself working alone, the cliché of the mad genius alone in the studio (Brian Wilson) but also the problematic and prolific collaborator (Brian Eno). So I knew these stories, and this pedigree — and that he had been with this band The Nazz, and had started this other group, Utopia, all before I really actually heard Rundgren. I knew he was a guitar hero in one life, and a singer/songwriter in the other. But both lives were almost always on show.

How perfect to start at the top with this still baffling, beguiling, and brilliant tour-de-force. The big serve album that really delivers. And I heard it for one simple, wonderful reason: It was back in the day of the record store clerk. You made a relationship. You went in, talked, shared stories. You enthusiastically yapped about the music you loved. And in return you got to hear some top tips too. I’ve been on both sides of the counter, and therefore both sides of the conversation.  

But before I ever had my own record store job, I was lucky to meet a man that many in Wellington remember as one of the greatest retailers of all time (Of All Time). Seamus Kavanagh. He worked for Tower Music forever. And then set up his own store, Fish Eye Discs. I would talk to him about jazz and blues records for my father (he even hand-delivered a CD to my dad in Hawke’s Bay — “No problem, I’m going there tomorrow for a family holiday”). He introduced me to Rodriguez. Long before there was a Sugar Man documentary. 

He introduced me to the Chet Baker/Art Pepper Picture of Heath album. He introduced me to so many great records. But we were talking about Prince one day. And all of his influences. And how Prince was Sly Stone. And he was James Brown. And he was Jimi Hendrix a little bit. And he was even Joni Mitchell. And then Seamus told me that, actually, Prince was also Todd Rundgren. The one-man-band thing. The studio Svengali. The top pop tunesmith that couldn’t help but go maximalist with the experimentation. It all made sense, and I had to hear this apparent masterpiece, Something/Anything. 

The internet was a thing, but only just. It wasn’t everyone’s best friend and worst enemy and constant crutch. It was a place for sending emails. So you took the word of the people you met. And you trusted the experts. Seamus was my retailer of choice for a long time there. And of course there were others. There still are, if and when you need them. If you want to look. But nothing felt better than taking his word on this album. And I’ve loved the twists and turns of the Rundgren musical journey ever since. I still haven’t heard everything he’s done, and maybe I don’t want to, or need to, but I went from just barely knowing about him to being a fan overnight because of the words of one wise record store clerk. And that used to mean something. 

And so, I think about that all the time when I listen to this, and other albums that came from such recommendations. And hey, also, wee brag to finish, but I even got to interview Todd Rundgren a few years back. And he was hilarious, and fascinating and frustrating, and most of all brilliant. The perfect experience. The perfect encapsulation of who he is and what he represents.

Simon Sweetman writes about music (far more about what he loves than what he hates) on Substack, here